


black is the colour (of my true love's hair)

by hemmingscliffords



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: ALL OF IT, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Feelings, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, Top!Luke, blame him for what i have done, bottom!Michael, luke has black hair, michael gets a bit flustered, this is all michael's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemmingscliffords/pseuds/hemmingscliffords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes graze over Luke's ash blonde hair, the multitude of colours from various batches of highlights that their stylists have given him over the past year, the butterscotch coloured roots that are growing in from not upkeeping it, and out of nowhere Michael thinks that <em>holy shit</em>, Luke would look awesome with black hair. Maybe an ebony colour that had a midnight blue washed through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	black is the colour (of my true love's hair)

**Author's Note:**

> i felt like i hadn't posted any proper, really long work in a loooong time. this fic literally happened in a few hours.  
> i'm hugely obsessed with luke having black hair and i'm blaming michael for it.  
> title is from a nina simone song of the same name.  
> i'm not really on it anymore due to work, but head over to hemmingscliffords on tumblr to send me prompts and the likes, because i sometimes have time to do them now believe it or not !!  
> enjoy!

He's not actually completely sure when his infatuation with wanting to dye Luke's hair started. Michael's just aware that he wants to get his hands on it, mostly because he's growing bored of wrecking his own hair, and _maybe_ because he knows how bad ass Luke would be with crazy colours in his blonde locks.

The band are all sprawled out in Michael's living room during a lazy day whilst at home in Sydney, Ashton is spread like a starfish on the floor whilst Luke and Calum continue to be enthralled by the current game of Fifa they're playing, on opposite sofas at Ashton's request, because the competition between the two can get fairly fierce at times.

Michael is sharing a sofa with Luke, both of them sat Indian style with legs crossed, their knees knocking together as Luke jerks around with his controller, a habit that Michael tends to have when he plays too.

The redhead has a hand in the hairs at the nape of Luke's neck, fingers lightly scratching at the boy's scalp the way he _knows_ Luke likes, by the way he shivers and goosebumps break out over his body every time Michael does it. 

His eyes graze over Luke's ash blonde hair, the multitude of colours from various batches of highlights that their stylists have given him over the past year, the butterscotch coloured roots that are growing in from not upkeeping it, and out of nowhere Michael thinks that _holy shit_ , Luke would look awesome with black hair. Maybe an ebony colour that had a midnight blue washed through it. Michael tells him.

"Y'know you'd look really good with black hair," Michael speaks softly, voice quiet enough that only Luke could hear it over Calum's excessive whinging about Luke beating him at _another_ match.

Luke turns to look at Michael, hums a little like he's thinking about it, considering it, "I think it'd look weird. I'm like a milk bottle, I'd look like a ghost or summat." 

"You'd look hot," Michael blurts out, eyes widening a little as he realises what he just said. It's a split second before his hand drops from Luke's hair and he continues with, "Shut up."

Luke grins like a fucking fool for at least an hour afterwards.

~~x~~

It's been three days since Michael came to his revelation and he can't stop thinking about it. Like, at all. It's on his mind first thing in the morning, last thing at night and all the other time in between.

He hasn't seen any of the boys since then and he's having serious withdrawls. He would've thought he'd eventually get fed up of seeing his three bandmates every day, but they're like his second family, one he can't live without. And, there are only so many times he can play League of Legends before wanting to punch himself in the face.

He phones Luke first, of course. He answers on the second ring.

"Put that new drivers license of yours to good use and come visit me, I miss you." Michael whines, making sure that Luke can practically _hear_ his pouting over the phone.

Luke lets out a quiet, throaty laugh that makes Michael's heartbeat skip, "Well hello to you too, Mikey." And he's grinning, Michael can tell, "I'll be over in a sec."

Michael almost squeals in delight, calms himself before saying, "Don't crash or anything, love ya, bro." and hangs up, pockets his phone and heads across the hall to the office.

He feels like he's just sat down in his computer chair when he hears the front door slam shut, hears Luke's clumsy footsteps tramp their way to the office, knowing that's where Michael would be.

"Your fuckin' hallway is a maze of everyone's shoes, goddamn," Luke mutters when he enters the room, clutching his socked foot, "I just tripped over Calum's old black converse. He hasn't worn them since he was fifteen, like fuck." 

Michael isn't even paying attention to anything Luke is saying, eyes bugging out of his head and mouth hanging open as he drinks in the younger boy's features.

Because, yep, that's Luke Hemmings and his fucking hair is black. Standing under the artificial light, Michael can just barely make out the blue tint in the raven locks, can see some of the hair is lighter where Luke's previous highlights had been.

Michael can't breathe. He can't think, can't form words, nothing.

"Dude, what are you staring at?" Luke asks, brows furrowed. A split second later, it dawns on him why Michael is so quiet, dumbstruck, "Oh, my hair? Yeah, I just figured that since you take my hair advice so often, it was only fair that I take yours. y'know?"

"It, uh.." Michael's mouth is about as dry as the sahara, he can't stop staring, "It looks awesome. Like, really awesome."

Luke has this adorable grin on his face as he pretends to flip hair off his shoulder, "You were right about it. Everyone thinks it looks good, apart from mum. She's not too pleased that I've been tainted by you."

"I mean, I knew it'd look good, but I didn't think it'd look _this_ good." Michael's getting out of the chair now, reaching a hand out to run through Luke's quiff. His hair is still so soft, and Michael can see a small patch of blonde that he's missed. God, he's never been so attracted to Luke before, ever. The ebony coloured hair, the lip ring to match, the torn shirt and the tight black skinnies. Luke is Michael's wet dream.

"I knew you'd like it," Luke breathes out, keening into Michael's touch. He's feeling bold, hands coming out to rub Michael's sides, hands slipping up under the material of his shirt and pulling him in, "I know we've not done _this_ for years, but fuck, I want it. Do you?" 

Michael chokes on his own tongue, feels his skin go hot underneath Luke's hands. Sure, they had fooled around in the past, like after Michael had his first kiss and Luke wanted to know what it was like, wanted to have at least _some_ experience before he did it for real, and Michael was more than willing to transfer his expertise onto him. Or drunken nights after shitty high school parties, when they'd stumble through Michael's house, trying not to wake his parents, collapsing on top of each other in a drunken mess and lips would be on lips, hands would be fumbling with zippers and it'd just happen.

As soon as the fame happened, everything stopped. It became risky for them to fool around, too many people could catch them now, too many people could expose them. For the good of the band, they'd stopped for good. And now for Luke to just throw the question out, after having to stop for so long, Michael couldn't say no. It was something he'd been craving for almost two years, and god only knew when the chance would arise again. He'd take it, take it whilst Luke was still offering.

Michael's hand tightens in Luke's raven locks, pulls him down for a messy kiss. It's nothing but teeth and tongue, just teetering on the line of painful as Luke grabs hold of Michael's waist, pushes him blindly out the door and through the house, to the last door on the left, pushing the redhead down on the familiar queen sized bed. 

So much has changed since this last happened. No longer is Luke this gangly kid with noodle arms and a stupid fringe, he's this tall, muscular, broad-shouldered Greek God, who can be dominant and take control of the situation, throw Michael around like a rag doll. Michael no longer has to show or tell Luke what to do, he knows what he's doing on his own. Michael's so turned on it's pathetic. 

Luke's legs are bracketing Michael's thighs, as he pins Michael's hands above his head, holds them there with long, strong, calloused fingers, blunt nails biting skin. Michael hears himself let out an involuntary moan, hips bucking up, already so needy, already so _painfully_ hard.

Michael thinks for a long, worrying second that shit, Luke might just decide to keep him like this for the rest of the time. Might just grind against him fully clothed until they're coming. Michael doesn't want that, he wants everything Luke has to give. He wants skin on skin, fingernails breaking skin, teeth scraping necks. He wants loud moans, cut off whines, hair pulling. He wants it all. If this is the last time he's ever going to get this close to Luke, he wants the full experience, something that he'll remember.

"Luke, please," Michael's begging, doesn't realise he's opened his mouth until Luke bends over him, ebony quiff already falling forward from the lack of product in his hair. Shit, Luke has never looked more desirable, more dangerous. 

"What is it, Mikey?" He asks, rolls his hips down again, and Michael's eyes roll until only the white can be seen. 

"Don't just -- don't just let this be something quick," He whispers, doesn't even strain against Luke's grip on his wrists, the steady pressure giving him something, "I don't want this to be quick, meaningless, pointless. Do it proper." 

Luke knows what Michael means, face softening, blue hues the darkest shade Michael has ever seen them. It's weird doing this, in broad daylight, so _visible_ to each other, so vulnerable. Michael's not hiding in the dark this time, not asking Luke to turn the lights out because he's so self concious. Luke's so fond, wants to give Michael exactly what he wants.

And just like that, Luke's letting his grip of Michael's wrists go, hands going back to running up Michael's shirt, rucking it up to his armpits, until Michael finally gets it and lifts up, lets Luke peel the material off his body, chuck it on the floor. Michael's actually happy that he's wearing sweats today, an easier job for both he and Luke. 

Luke slips down Michael's body, peppers kisses all over his chest, his stomach, muttering sweet nothings about how beautiful Michael is, and it makes the redhead squirm, because he's not used to this, doesn't think he'd ever get used to it. Luke's fingers then slip under the waistband of Michael's sweatpants, and Michael lifts his hips up, letting Luke pull them down, taking his underwear with them, pulling them clean off of Michael's legs, letting the material pool at the bottom of the bed. 

Michael's cock makes this obscene slapping noise as it hits his stomach, and he's blushing. He can't help it, the small self-concious part of him still showing because he's so exposed, and Luke's still fully clothed. 

It's as if the raven haired boy notices Michael's discomfort, because then he's quickly stripping out of his shirt, getting off the bed to dance his way out of his skinnies, and then he's just left in his black Topmans. The material look so dark compared to Luke's milk bottle skin, the same as his beautiful hair. Michael's words get caught in his throat again. God, only Luke could ever do this to him.

"Where's your lube at?" Luke's voice is raspy, and Michael can't do anything more than point towards his still unpacked suitcase in the corner, and Luke knows where he's going, the secret zipper inside the front pocket of the case. 

Luke grabs it quickly, moves back to kneel on the bed, spreading Michael's legs and making him hitch his legs up so that his knees are in the air. Luke leans over Michael, captures his lips in another biting kiss, and Michael's hands are back in Luke's hair again, tugging on the dark strands with a harsh force, whining pitifully into the younger's mouth. Michael can't remember ever being so gone for Luke before.

The kiss must be to distract Michael, because as their lips move wetly against each other's, teeth nipping on bottom lips, Michael feels a cold, wet finger trail up behind his balls, over his hole.

Luke breaks the kiss, leans his forehead against Michael's, oceanic hues boring into Michael's own, "Relax, okay? Tell me if it hurts and I'll stop." And Michael does relax, feels Luke's pointer finger enter him in one swift movement, and _god_ , this is all so new. It always used to be the other way around, it was Michael telling Luke to calm down, Michael telling Luke to relax. It was so strange, but so _right_.

Soon enough, Luke has two fingers buried inside Michael, scissoring slightly as Michael bites into Luke's pale neck, sucking and licking bruise upon bruise into his peachy skin, as his hands continued to fist Luke's hair. Michael doesn't think he'll ever get over Luke's hair being like this. He never wants Luke to be blonde again, ever.

There are three fingers in him now, and his hips jerk up, whole body shuddering and a breathy moan escaping his lips as Luke presses against that sweet spot, relentlessly doing it now that he's found it, and Michael can tell that this is just him being an annoying little shit now.

"God, I'm ready." Michael moans, head tipping back and exposing his neck. Luke leans down further, presses a kiss to Michael's Adams apple and then removes his fingers. Michael whines at the sudden emptiness, but then Luke's kicking off his underwear, slicking up his cock and positioning himself over Michael.

Michael feels like he's going cock eyed, staring up at Luke, everything about him so perfect. His hands reach out to fist into Luke's hair again, tug him down as Luke pushes into him, so achingly slowly.

It feels uncomfortable once Luke's hips come to a rest on Michael's ass. Michael squirms a little, trying to adjust to the sheer size of Luke inside of him, feeling absolutely nothing like fingers. It feels like an eternity has gone by before Michael nods, gives Luke the go-ahead to move. 

Luke's thrusts are shallow to start off with, but they still leave Michael panting breathily, cock aching in between them. Luke's moaning at the mixture of pain from Michael tugging so hard on his hair, and the tightness of Michael around him. 

"You're so loud," Michael whispers, voice shaky as he laughs a little. Luke just quirks a brow, fucks into Michael deeper and Michael's letting out a high pitched whine, body jerking, "Right there, right there." 

Luke pushes into him again, hitting the same spot over and over, as his thrusts already become sloppy, uncoordinated, and this is going to all end embarrassingly fast. Michael's this moaning, sweaty mess underneath Luke, and the younger boy doesn't dare look down at him, knowing that that'd be all it'd take for him.

Michael's panting, little rhythmic moans falling from his slack mouth as he continues to tug at the hairs at the nape of Luke's neck. His whole body is covered in a sheen of sweat, going red down his neck from the hair dye. 

Luke feels himself almost at the edge, opens his eyes and he snakes a hand down to wrap around Michael's dick. Michael's breath hitches in his throat, and Luke's hand mixed with the constant pressure on his prostate is all it takes for him to bite sharply into Luke's shoulder, spilling all over Luke's fingers and his own stomach.

Luke watches Michael orgasm, watches his eyes clench shut as his teeth bite into Luke's shoulder, hands gripping impossibly tight on Luke's black hair, and Luke only has to thrust once, twice more and he's jerking forward, coming with such a force that his vision whites out for a second. 

When he eventually opens his eyes, he's slumped down on Michael and they're both breathing heavily, rhythmically. Luke pulls out of Michael, and he can see the redhead shift uncomfortably at the feeling. Luke makes to move from the bed and then Michael's hand grasps his wrist.

"Don't leave." He whispers, eyes wide and scared. Luke simply shakes his head, a fond smile on his face.

"I'm not going anywhere. But I _am_ getting you a cloth. You're a mess." And with that, Luke's off the bed, returning a minute later with a damp washcloth. And he wipes Michael down so carefully, with nimble fingers and a nervous look on his face. Once he's done, he chucks the towel in Michael's laundry basket, slumping next to Michael.

"M'always the small spoon." He protests, and feels Michael's arm wrap around him, pull him in. Michael's nose is in Luke's dark hair, and it's silent for god only knows how long.

"Black looks really good on you, Luke. Don't change it back." Michael mumbles, lips moving against the back of Luke's neck.

And Luke thinks nah, he's not changing it. Because it makes Michael happy.


End file.
